Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Eya and Yasha. Kivi and Fayla
belong to themselves.
Author's note: This story idea has been done so many times I don't know why I'm writing it. I guess Fayla's been having too many vampire dreams.
* * * *
Quatre slipped his blue jacket over his white shirt as he listened to the news.
"Another man was attacked last night at nearly midnight. He was found dead by his wife with two small puncture holes in his neck. Before the police arrived, his body mysteriously disappeared. This is the third case this week. Many are starting to believe that vampires may be responsible for the deaths and the disappearances."
Quatre listened to this, not knowing what to think. He didn't like to hear about people getting killed, but the living dead? It seemed a little farfetched.
He shut off the TV and headed out the door for late-night grocery shopping.
~
A while later, Quatre walked down the sidewalk, his arms full with two grocery bags. The sidewalk was dotted with streetlights, leaving little gaps of darkness. He listened carefully for anyone trying to sneak up on him. He felt safe enough, but it didn't hurt to be careful. The news reporter's words had stuck in his head:
'Two small puncture holes in his neck.'
'Vampires may be responsible.'
He had just stepped into a dark gap when he heard a small rustling coming from the alleyway just to his left. At first, Quatre was alarmed. He didn't know if it was a stray cat or someone ready to mug him. But curiosity got the better of him and he stepped towards the alleyway.
Faster than he could react, a thick black fog shot out of the alleyway and surrounded Quatre. From the fog a strangled and hoarse yelp was heard, then a sharp gasp. There was the sound of two things hitting the ground and breaking. Then there was the sound of a body hitting the floor. The black fog fled back into the alleyway. It left Quatre and his groceries, both lying on the cold ground. The groceries were scattered and broken from the fall. Quatre lay unmoving, his white shirt stained from the red leaking from two puncture holes in his neck. His heartbeat and breathing were nonexistent.
* * * *
Author's note: Short chapter, I know. The next one will be pretty short too.
Author's note: This story idea has been done so many times I don't know why I'm writing it. I guess Fayla's been having too many vampire dreams.
* * * *
Quatre slipped his blue jacket over his white shirt as he listened to the news.
"Another man was attacked last night at nearly midnight. He was found dead by his wife with two small puncture holes in his neck. Before the police arrived, his body mysteriously disappeared. This is the third case this week. Many are starting to believe that vampires may be responsible for the deaths and the disappearances."
Quatre listened to this, not knowing what to think. He didn't like to hear about people getting killed, but the living dead? It seemed a little farfetched.
He shut off the TV and headed out the door for late-night grocery shopping.
~
A while later, Quatre walked down the sidewalk, his arms full with two grocery bags. The sidewalk was dotted with streetlights, leaving little gaps of darkness. He listened carefully for anyone trying to sneak up on him. He felt safe enough, but it didn't hurt to be careful. The news reporter's words had stuck in his head:
'Two small puncture holes in his neck.'
'Vampires may be responsible.'
He had just stepped into a dark gap when he heard a small rustling coming from the alleyway just to his left. At first, Quatre was alarmed. He didn't know if it was a stray cat or someone ready to mug him. But curiosity got the better of him and he stepped towards the alleyway.
Faster than he could react, a thick black fog shot out of the alleyway and surrounded Quatre. From the fog a strangled and hoarse yelp was heard, then a sharp gasp. There was the sound of two things hitting the ground and breaking. Then there was the sound of a body hitting the floor. The black fog fled back into the alleyway. It left Quatre and his groceries, both lying on the cold ground. The groceries were scattered and broken from the fall. Quatre lay unmoving, his white shirt stained from the red leaking from two puncture holes in his neck. His heartbeat and breathing were nonexistent.
* * * *
Author's note: Short chapter, I know. The next one will be pretty short too.